


Darkness Awaits

by Hattie



Series: Casting Shadows [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 06:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hattie/pseuds/Hattie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Luke met on a park bench when she was eleven and he twelve. They didn't see each other again until she was sixteen, and he seventeen. But he has made some choices. Choices that may have dire consequences. Can she set him right again, or will it be too late? An enemy is trying to destroy what little hope they have. What if he succeeds? Read and review.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: I am well aware that Hermione is an only child and, in that case, has no brother who is a Wizard but for the sake of this story, let's just say that she does.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, wish I did though.

Prologue: I'm A Witch?

Hermione:

A girl only turns eleven once, right? It's a special day, a day that marks the turn into what we like to think of as adulthood when really we're only in year six and definitely still children. Well, I say most girls eleventh birthdays are special, mine was downright amazing.

I awoke at precisely 6:00 to find my parents at the foot of my bed, smiling proudly at their middle child. From the noise coming from down the stairs, it was safe to assume that my siblings were already up and waiting none-too-patiently for my arrival. They didn't say anything but left me to change in peace before I made my way down the stairs.

They were, as expected, all waiting for me. On our one and only sofa my eldest sibling, Michael, sat, a book propped on his lap and his glasses pushed up his nose. Beside him sat my sister, Savanna, her blond hair that was so much like our fathers scraped into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck. On her lap sat four year old Will, his pudgy face pulled into a pout as he was forced to wait. Last but not least and sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, a look of utter concentration on his face, sat fourteen-year-old Jason, his wand on his lap. Jason was a Wizard; he went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry even though he was what they called a muggle-born. He seemed to love it there, even though none of his siblings had the magic to go.

"Honey," mum began, holding out an intricately wrapped gift with a sky-blue bow tied on top. It was small but, as mother always loved to say, the best things come in small packages. Giving her a small smile I took it and tugged the wrapping off, shaking my head, the smile still there, as I saw the plain black box that nestled in my palm. I opened this and gasped at what I saw. Lying innocently in the black silk was the prettiest necklace I had ever seen. It was plain silver but in the middle there was the faintest drop of sapphire. All in all, it was beautiful. I said as much and received a small laugh from mum but only a tight-lipped smile from dad. It was clear that the jewellery was mum's idea. If up to him, I would have received a book.

Michael pulled himself from his book just long enough to give me an unwrapped gift of, surprise, surprise, a book. It was called Wuthering Heights and from the disapproving look from my mother, she deemed it either too old or inappropriate for my eyes. I had to roll them at that, I had already read Jane Eyre and Northanger Abbey but had always wanted to read that.

Savanna had given me a simple but stunning blue scarf, while Will had drawn me a picture of the family in his childish way. Jason, however, refused to relinquish his gift until later. It seemed like he was waiting for something – or someone – but didn't want to tell us yet.

Almost half an hour later, as we were eating breakfast, there came a knock at the door. Jase jolted up, smirking at us, before he stumbled into the living room and conversed with someone in quiet whispers. When he came back in, he was grinning and muttering, "I knew it, I just knew it," over and over under his breath.

I recognised the long white beard and twinkling blue eyes of the headmaster of his school, Albus Dumbledore. Today he was dressed in long, flowing, lilac robes, but there was no sign of the smile that usually adorned his face. Instead, he looked unnaturally grave.

"Albus," mum greeted immediately, offering his a cup of coffee, which he took thankfully.

"This has never happened before," he began once finishing his beverage, "But, as your son seemed to realise years ago, your youngest daughter, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, is a Witch. We have never had two children from the same muggle family before so you can see why I was dubious." Finally I saw the familiar grin stretch the corners of his mouth as he turned to me, "As your brother is already at Hogwarts, I believe you know everything there is to know about the school. Whenever is most convenient to you, I will take you to Diagon Alley and get you your school things. Here is a list." He gave it to me and proceeded to talk to mum and dad, doing weird impressions with his hands as he did so. Jase was still smiling wickedly and I turned an accusatory glare on him, "You knew?"

"I had to keep it a secret 'Mione," He whined immediately and I laughed, suddenly inexplicably happy. I was a Witch. As if my laugh had brought him back to focus, he muttered something and I followed him into the living room, where he gave me his gift. Upon opening it, I saw a really thick book titled Hogwarts: A History. Underneath that he had bought me my first spell book, the Standard Book of Spells: Grade one.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

XxX

It turned out to be exactly a week later that the headmaster returned to take me to Diagon Alley; it seemed that he didn't trust Jase and, from what I gathered when he came home for the holidays, I wouldn't have either.

It was early, about six o'clock, but I was already ready and as he was there, we decided to leave early after it had been established that I would meet Jase at one for an ice-cream.

"Diagon Alley is situated in London," Dumbledore explained as we walked, "There is a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. It is through the back." It seemed that this pub wasn't far from where I lived and we were there within five minutes.

It was a shambles but that didn't seem to matter because none of the muggles could see it. The black paint on the door was flaking and the sign above it creaked eerily if so much as a tiny breeze blew past. The inside was only marginally better. A rickety staircase led up to the rooms above and the pub itself had dust on every table and many of the chairs had broken legs. Dumbledore, however, ignored all of this, only offering a slight nod to the bartender, Tom, as we passed through to the back.

The back had nothing to it. Brick walls blocked us in on every side and atop one lay a sleek, black cat. I looked around, wondering how we were getting to Diagon Alley. The headmaster seemed unfazed, and tapped his walking stick against the stones on the wall with the cat. To my immense surprise an archway formed and we stepped through.

Diagon Alley was a long, narrow street, with shops like The Apothecary and Ollivanders: Wands for every occasion. All in all, it looked much the same as a muggle street except that all of the shops sold things for Witches and Wizards, and everyone was wearing robes.

A tall Witch barged past me, her fly-away grey hair pinned down under a bright pink, pointed hat. Before I could say anything I was dragged further along, where the most magnificent building I had ever set my eyes on appeared.

It was tall like a block of apartments, and completely cylindrical, with a large dome on top to complete the structure. Across the front, in glittering black print, was the words Gringotts.

"The Wizarding Bank," Dumbledore said by way of explanation and led me to the front door. Upon entering I saw rows of what I could only presume were goblins working hard at desks raised up so that the goblins had to peer down at the customers. I was led to the row at the end where an extremely wizened goblin had me sign some forms so that I could get a personal vault and change some of my muggle money into galleons.

With pockets jingling full of gold, we made our way to Ollivanders to get me a wand. Mr Ollivander was an ancient man wearing robes that seemed just as old as him but he seemed friendly enough, and gave Dumbledore the biggest smile I had ever seen on a man before.

"You are, my dear?"

"Hermione," I murmured, feeling cowed under the gaze of Ollivander, "Hermione Granger."

"Try this one. It has a dragon scale core, is ebony wood and is 9 ¼ inches."

I waved it but a vase behind the desk burst.

"No, no."

He stopped and stared at me as if seeing me for the first time after a long time, before a small smile curled the corners of his thin lips. He shared a glance with Dumbledore, and nodded as if to himself, before he disappeared again. A couple of minutes later he was back, another wand in his hand.

"Vine wood, dragon heartstring, 10 ¾ inches. It is incredibly rare, even more so than the Phoenix tail feather. Purchasing the heartstring of a dragon is a very tricky and costly experience which is why most do not pursue it. I do not know of any wands in existence with this core."

I stared at it for a moment before gripping it hard with my right hand, watching as it lit up merrily. I finally had a wand.

XxX

It's not every day you find out that you are a Witch but, for obvious reasons, you can't tell the muggles. That was why, when I went over to my'friends' house later on, I couldn't mention of the newest discovery.

Dudley Dursley wasn't really anyone's friend, but he had his own little gaggle of followers who were too scared to do anything else and, while I was not scared of him, I still accepted his invitation to dine at his house with his parents and orphaned cousin.

Harry was a nice kid, bespectacled, had jet-black hair and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. For obvious reasons no-one was friends with him, but that didn't stop them from feeling sorry for him and I always spoke to him as nicely as I could.

Anyone who knew me in later life would wonder why I – of all people – received an invitation to the Dursleys, and I couldn't blame them. In actual fact I couldn't tell you why I received this invitation, only that I did. I couldn't tell you if Dudley actually liked me, or was just doing it to show off to his mates – I suspected the latter – but I was still going.

I hesitated outside their front door for a moment before quickly knocking and entering once Petunia had opened it. The Dursleys were all seated in the living room; all had disapproving frowns on their faces as they glared openly at poor Harry. I smiled at him before taking a seat.

"How are you my dear?" Petunia asked, "I trust you and your family are well?"

"Very," I replied nervously, giving her a tight-lipped smile before Dudley dragged me up to his bedroom. I was already feeling sceptical about this invitation but decided to say nothing as I was deposited, none-too-gently, on the bed.

"I have a bet," Dudley began, "That I can get you to kiss me."

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. I mean, I was only eleven, he was ten. That didn't seem to deter him, however, as he roughly pushed me back onto the bed and crushed his lips to mine. I let out a tiny whimper of pain, attempting to push his massive bulk off me, but to no avail.

"Maybe we could go further," he whispered huskily in my ear but just at that moment, to my immense relief, Harry entered the room to announce dinner. Dudley hauled himself off and waddled out, leaving me alone with Harry.

"Are you okay?" He hesitantly made his way to my side as if scared that I would push him away. Instead of replying, I shook my head emphatically.

"Have dinner and then go straight home, Dudley's a pig," he snapped, gently pulling me up and watching me for a moment in silence. I nodded once, giving him a watery grin, before following him down the stairs to an uneventful meal.

XxX

Luke:

I've known I was a demi-god for years – since I was six actually and heard my mum talking about it to her mirror. I know that most people think that people who talk to mirrors are generally insane but – hey – I was only six so give a guy a break.

It was barely a week after that when I entered the kitchen to see mum sitting at the table with a strange guy. He looked like a statue, all stiff and poised, but he had wild, curly hair and the weirdest stick I had ever seen. It had two snakes curled around the top which I could have sworn were talking to each other. In his hand he held an I-phone but he was staring at my mum – or more widely known as May Castellan.

"May," he was saying, his eyebrows furrowed nervously, "You cannot. If it does not kill you, then it will send you insane and who will look after Luke when that happens?"

"You," was all my May said, tipping some brandy into her mouth and wiping her mouth. The other guy – I later learned that this was none other than Hermes himself – looked briefly troubled as he replied, "I have my job on Olympus."

As first I thought he was crazy. I mean, even from a young age May had told me about the Greek legends and that's all they were: legends. Neither had noticed me so I listened for a little longer.

"It will be interesting to see if the Oracle still has the curse on her," she replied, nodding drunkenly at the man I knew to be my father, "If she does then so be it."

It was at this moment that Hermes had to look up and see me. He smiled but it seemed slightly strained and didn't fool anyone. Before he left, he turned back to mum and said, "Fine, we can try, but it will not work."

"That's all I ask."

That was the last thing she ever said while still sane. After I was tucked into bed that night she crept out and tried to become the Oracle – whatever that was – and when she came back, she was most definitely not sane. Yes, I stayed with her, but only because I had nowhere else to go, no living family that I knew of beside my God of a father.

I grew up before my time and that was why, six years later, I found myself taking the slow, deliberate steps to the park where I could think about all that had transpired since May had become – or failed to become – the Oracle.

Unfortunately, however, my usual bench already had a girl sitting on it. From where I stood I could see frizzy brown hair that flowed down her back and she was wearing a plain white summer dress even though it was September. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she was sobbing horrifically.

I could only stare at her in shock, upset to see someone so clearly heartbroken. After a few minutes, she seemed to sense my presence and raised her eyes to mine; quickly brushing away the tears, but more kept flowing. She had beautiful eyes of a soft, honey colour and her cheeks were flushed.

"What's wrong?"

She just shook her head, unwilling to talk about it, but I was known to be curious for no reason and genuinely wanted to help her.

"Please."

That was all I had to say. She raised her eyes to mine, smiling weakly and I returned it before listening as she said, "You've heard of Dudley Dursley, right?"

"He's a year younger than me," I agreed, nodding.

"He's the same age and me a…and I we…went over t…to his earlier…"

That was all she had to say, and all she could say because more tears were replacing the first. I didn't say anything but sat beside her and put my arm around her back. Eventually I did speak, "Ignore him. You're only eleven – right? – you have your whole life ahead of you, don't waste it on Dudley Dursley."

She caught my eye and let out a weak chuckle before nodding, "Thanks."

"No problem. Now, will you tell me your name?"

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"Luke Castellan," I greeted, holding out my hand for her to take, which she did with a slight smile.

"I live in number eight Privet Drive, near to Dudley's."

"Let's not talk about him. Come on, it's early and I'm hungry, let's go get an ice-cream."

"You get ice-cream when you're hungry?" she asked incredulously but she still took my hand and stood up, grinning tearfully at me. I gently removed a stray tear and put my arm around her shoulder again, hugging her to me.

Sometimes it sucked to be twelve.


	2. 5 Years Later

5 years later

Hermione:

"What's wrong?"

I just shook my head, unwilling to talk about it, and tried to avoid his gaze.

"Please."

That was all he had to say. I raised my eyes to his, smiling weakly and je returned it before listening as I said, "You've heard of Dudley Dursley, right?"

"He's a year younger than me," he agreed, nodding.

"He's the same age and me a…and I we…went over t…to his earlier…"

That was all I had to say, and all I could say because more tears were replacing the first. He didn't say anything but sat beside me and put his arm around my back. Eventually he did speak, "Ignore him. You're only eleven – right? – you have your whole life ahead of you, don't waste it on Dudley Dursley."

I caught his eye and let out a weak chuckle before nodding, "Thanks."

"No problem. Now, will you tell me your name?"

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"Luke Castellan," He greeted, holding out his hand for me to take, which I did with a slight smile.

"I live in number eight Privet Drive, near to Dudley's."

"Let's not talk about him. Come on, it's early and I'm hungry, let's go get an ice-cream."

"You get ice-cream when you're hungry?" I asked incredulously but still took his hand and stood up, grinning tearfully at him. He gently removed a stray tear and put his arm around my shoulder again, hugging me to him.

"'Mione?"

The voice jolted me awake and I sat up straight. It was the first time I had thought of that day in years. It was the day I met Luke Castellan, and it was a day I knew would stay in my mind forever, even if I never saw him again, which was likely and I hadn't seen him since then. I left for Hogwarts and he disappeared two years after – when I was thirteen and he fourteen.

The voice belonged to Ginny, who was seated at the foot of my bed, an amused smile on her face, "We have ten minutes before lessons."

"Fu…dge" I was about to swear under my breath but changed my mind at the last moment, "Fudge."

Gin laughed and shook her head, "Still don't swear, huh?"

I puffed myself up importantly, "Swearing is for the feeble minded who can think of nothing better to say."

"Remind me of that when I'm next talking to Ron, will you?" She teased, relishing in the slight blush that tinted my cheeks at the mention of his name. She just rolled her eyes and reminded me, "Ten minutes."

True to my word, exactly 8.5 minutes later I was standing outside the Transfiguration classroom with Harry and Ron, both of whom were laughing at the fact that the renowned Bookworm had almost been late to class. I pretended to ignore them as I took my seat at the front, a certain blond-haired boy still in my head.

"Now," Professor McGonagall began when she finally entered, "Everyone is to make their way to the Hall."

I – along with everyone else – sighed in annoyance, packed my things away and went to the Great Hall, where I took a seat beside Gin, who was supposed to have Charms. Once the last person was seated, Dumbledore rose and smiled at all of us in turn before he spoke, "This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I do not believe that becoming a skilled Witch or Wizard is all about what you learn in lessons, and that is why, starting tomorrow, We are starting an assignment. You will choose a group of four – from any year – and work on this assignment until January. In January we are going to choose a winning group from each house and these sixteen are going to have a trip outside of school. I am not to tell you where you will be going, only that I know it will be enjoyable. You get to choose what you want to work on, and must record everything you do relating to this. I wish you all the best of luck."

"Why didn't McGonagall just tell us this in class?" I asked as Harry, Ron, Ginny and I left the Great Hall, "Because we have to go back to McGonagall's lesson anyway."

"Then Dumbledore wouldn't be able to announce it, and we all know how much he loved doing that," was Ron's reply and I laughed daintily, all thoughts of Luke driven from my mind.

"We're working as a four?" Gin asked nervously, as though scared we would ditch her. I grinned, "Course." And my two male best friends nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, I have to go to Professor Flitwick's," she murmured glumly as we arrived outside the Transfiguration classroom.

"Remember, you already have a group," Harry shouted at her back as she sashayed away. He remained staring after her, a small smile on his face. It was clear that he was besotted.

"Is anyone already in a group?" Professor McGonagall asked once we were all seated. Before I could do or say anything, Lavender's hand shot into the air and she announced, "Parvati and I are going with Seamus and Dean."

"Good. Anyone else?"

"We're with Ginny," Harry said, indicating the three of us and the Professor nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face.

XxX

"What should we do?"

We were situated in the common room; lessons finished for the day. Harry and Ron had stolen the two best seats next to fire, opposite each other, leaving Gin and me to take the two next to theirs.

No-one spoke for a moment, everyone deep in thought, but nothing came to me. I was Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of the Age, but I couldn't think of anything. There was nothing to distract me from thinking about Luke, and that was what I found myself doing. I was supposed to be thinking of our plan, but all I could think of was Luke Castellan and what became of him after we had parted ways.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice broke into my thoughts and I whipped my head up to stare at them, "What do you think?"

"About what?"

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and Gin rolled her eyes but I was still clueless.

"Did you listen to a word I just said?"

"Sorry," I mumbled, waiting for her to continue.

"I was thinking that our project – assignment, whatever you want to call it – could be on the DA. I mean, everyone knows about it and it would be very interesting."

"I think it's a great idea," I intoned, my gaze on the flickering fire, my thoughts – surprisingly – of Sirius Black. I remembered his face in the fire, talking to us like he hadn't a care in the world when, in reality, he was the most wanted criminal of all time.

"Are you tired?" Gin asked, again successfully pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah," I muttered, yawning for good measure, "I'm gonna head up. I'll see you tomorrow, we can discuss details then."

Again they exchanged glances, "Tomorrow's the first Hogsmede visit of the year, I don't particularly want to do work."

"Of course it is."

XxX

Luke:

"It's been a long time," a voice rasped from the back corner of the room, hidden in shadows.

I was in a long, almost-pitch black room with sputtering candles in brackets along the walls. The floor was made of polished, plain, black marble – and the walls were much the same. The only entrance or exit was the one through which I had just entered, but that was barred from the outside and would only open if I was given permission to leave by the General.

The General preferred to stay in the darkness, conducting his business from there, and I couldn't blame him. Ever since I was twelve and had stolen Zeus' lightning bolt in an attempt to get it to Hades, Camp Half-Blood had been especially careful and wary. Anything that looked vaguely suspicious was looked into.

I had only ever seen him in the light once and it wasn't a pretty sight. He was extremely pale and had red slits for eyes. He looked like a human apart from the two horns that protruded from his head, curling into a thick spiral of bone, and the black, leathery wings that came out of his back.

"Camp Half-Blood has become complacent," I began. "Since Thalia's return, they have been even more on their guard, but that was four years ago and I believe, if we time it perfectly, then we could destroy them once and for all."

"And then?"

"Then comes Mount Olympus. The prophecy states that only Gods and demi-Gods together can save it, and if the Camp is destroyed, then there will be no demi-Gods to stand against us."

"I see you have given this much thought."

I paused for a moment in surprise, eyebrows half-raised before I nodded once in confirmation and waited for him to continue.

"Before we begin, I need you to travel to a Wizarding village called Hogsmede. Within a pub called The Three Broomsticks you will meet with a boy of sixteen. This is Draco Malfoy and he will be a valuable ally if we can get his father – and, in turn, the Dark Lord – on our side. Leave first thing tomorrow morning."

"It shall be done."

XxX

My room, when I returned to it, seemed even more dank and gloomy than when I had left. The rotting floorboards groaned and creaked while the wind howled through the half-open window. The mattress seemed to have all manner of bugs in it, making it preferable to sleep on the floor if not for the freezing cold that seeped into your bones.

I sighed once, resigned to my fate, and for the first time since I was twelve I thought for a moment that maybe what I was doing was not the right thing. For the first time since I had met a charming eleven year old girl called Hermione Granger I thought that maybe, once I had left her side, if I had revealed all to Chiron and Dionysus, all would be sorted and I wouldn't be out freezing my butt off for something that I wasn't even sure I believed in anymore.

I shook those treacherous thoughts away; thinking like that would send me to an early grave. Hermione had seemed so fascinating and I couldn't help but wonder if she remembered the small twelve-year-old she had met that day. She was probably surrounded by friends – oblivious to the world of demi-Gods and magic around her.

Before I could dwell on those thoughts any longer, the decaying door was swung open. It was no-one of much importance but when all you really want to do is sleep, having a demi-God burst into your room is the last thing you want.

Ethan Rust stumbled forward, a dopey smile plastered onto his face as he swigged from the beer bottle in his hand. In reality, the bottle only held water but that was irrelevant. I rolled my eyes at his antics, prepared to slip under the covers, but he stopped pretending to be drunk and faced me, head bowed.

"What is it?"

I was being rude but at this particular moment I didn't much care.

"The General told me that when you go to Hogsmede, you are to be staying in Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry as the esteemed guest of Draco Malfoy."

I nodded once, sneering at the thought of all the Witches at the school. Without saying anything, Ethan left, flicking his long, black hair out of his eyes as he did so.

XxX

Hermione:

Saturday dawned bright and early, a welcome change from the business of the past weeks. It was only November and we weren't taking our OWLs or NEWTs this year but we were still swamped with work. I would have been more than happy to stay behind and do a five-foot long essay on the properties of a bezoar but it seemed that my assignment-mates wouldn't let me.

Gin was in my room at what seemed like six in the morning but in reality was eight; my other dorm mates had already left for breakfast. I levelled my best glare at her, but she returned it with a blithe smile. I gritted my teeth and changed in a baby-blue tank top and jeans. Gin nodded her approval and we made our way down.

"Finally, we were gonna send a search party up," Harry joked while Ron stuffed his face full but still managed to mutter, "Oo, ook, ice, Mine."

"Sorry," I asked in disgust, flicking a speck of half-chewed food off my top. He swallowed heavily and turned to me, blushing heavily, "I said, you look nice Mione."

"Oh!"

I blushed slightly, feeling guilty at the disgusted look that had been on my face barely moments before. From his expression, Ron had seen it and that disheartened him. Gin and Harry exchanged knowing glances, the former smirking while the latter rolled his eyes.

I took a slice of toast and started buttering it while Gin took the seat beside me, opposite Harry and Ron.

"So," Ginny began, drawing out the word like she expected to be interrupted. She wasn't disappointed.

"So what?"

"What are we going to do about our assignment? I know we have a long time but wherever they take us must be really good or they wouldn't even consider it."

"I know," Harry replied in a murmur, "But what do we do within the DA?"

"We could…" Ron began loudly, his voice raising with excitement but his sister launched herself across the table and clapped her hands over his mouth to prevent him from saying anything else. In doing so, she knocked a cup of orange juice all over Harry, who gasped more from surprise than anything. Through my giggles I quickly remedied the situation and suggested, "Let's talk about this in the Three Broomsticks at three o'clock. Gin and I have some Christmas shopping to do."

"Agreed," Harry replied, throwing a warning glance at his fellow Gryffindor idiot as he rose, waiting for us to follow him out.

We walked slightly ahead of them as we gave Filch our permission slips and made our way out of the imposing castle gates.

"Where do you need to go first?" I asked by way of conversation, not satisfied by the nod she gave me in answer. "Come on, there's got to be somewhere." Again, she shrugged, not saying anything, eyes trained on the ground.

Without thinking through my actions, I grabbed her arm and dragged her none-too-gently into a side alley, ignoring her glare of annoyance and demanding, "Spill."

"Spill what?"

"Ever since we've gotten out of Harry and Ron's listening range, you have been silent. I demand to know what's wrong."

I was scared that maybe I was being a little forthcoming, but eventually she sighed in defeat and began to speak, "I guess you know that I really like Harry, right? But to him all we can ever be is just friends." She seemed to be waiting for me to contradict her but I didn't because it was true. "I just wish he would see me as someone other than Ron's little sister and actually see me as girlfriend material."

I felt that I had to say something, "Gin, he will see you like that eventually."

I had been hoping for a watery smile or at least some indication that my words were okay. Instead, her eyes filled with tears that began to spill. She sobbed unabashedly into my arms for at least five minutes before she could brush them away with a weak grin and order that we continue with the shopping.

At exactly five to three we met up with our two friends outside The Three Broomsticks and together we entered. The pub was crowded and only one table was available at the far end. With a loud sigh, we made our way to it, only to find that the table right next to it was occupied by none other than Malfoy, his two cronies, Parkinson, Zabini, and another man who seemed vaguely familiar.

His hair was a shade of blond although much darker than Malfoy's, while his eyes were a brooding blue colour. His lips turned down slightly at the corners and he had a spattering of freckles around his nose. He was by no means perfect, but he was very good looking.

Malfoy's drawl turned my attention back to him, "It's Potty, Weasley, Weaslette and Mudblood. Watch out or we'll be contaminated."

I summoned my best glare and levelled it at him while Harry and Ron tugged their wands from their pockets.

"Don't." My voice was quiet but held authority and, reluctantly, the wands were replaced.

"Listen to Granger, she actually speaks some sense," Malfoy smirked, raising an eyebrow threateningly.

"At least we're not a slimy Ferret. How did you like Goyle's pants Malfoy?" I asked, giving him a smirk worthy of a Slytherin. Goyle's hands immediately went under the table, his face while, while Malfoy turned a delicate shade of red.

"You'll regret that, Mudblood."

XxX

Luke:

The Three Broomsticks was unlike any pub I had ever seen. The air practically hummed with magic and they paid Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. The drinks were weird as well; butterbeer and firewhisky were only a few of the things on offer. The pub itself was surprisingly unremarkable – from the black chairs to the beer-stained tables – but almost all of the people sitting were dressed in robes. I felt starkly out of place.

I scanned the pub for any sign of the signature blond hair, finally finding it at the back, next to an empty table. I made my way there immediately, standing almost to attention as I waited for him to acknowledge my presence. When he didn't, I cleared my throat loudly and asked, "You're Draco Malfoy?"

Finally he turned to look at me and I noticed the cold, steel-grey eyes that were regarding me solemnly, "And you are?"

His tone was rude but I shook it out of the way before replying tersely, "Luke Castellan."

At first I wasn't sure that he had known to welcome me but eventually he murmured, "This is Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle."

I nodded once to each person before taking the final seat. The conversation immediately turned dark.

"I believe that the General wants my father to join his cause, is that correct?"

"It is."

"Why?"

I regarded him in surprise, wondering how to word the answer. In the end I muttered, "We need all the men we can get in order to destroy Camp Half-Blood. Once the camp is destroyed, we set our sights on Mount Olympus. If – and when – we succeed in our quest; the General has agreed to give your father and any other Death Eaters that join us lots of land and slaves – prisoners of war."

"It sounds tempting, but how do I know your General is not lying?"

He spoke like an old man and that thought nearly made me laugh. Nearly being the key word there. I managed to choke it back and reply in as normal voice as possible, "He will be willing to take an Unbreakable Vow."

Draco opened his mouth to say more but closed it again upon seeing who had just entered the pub. The boy in the lead was most definitely Harry Potter, with his unruly, black hair and lightning shaped scar. The two people who came in after him both had flaming red hair, making it obvious that they were brother and sister. The final Witch to enter seemed so familiar. Her hair was long, curly and a shade of brown never before seen on Earth. Her eyes, when she spotted the only unoccupied table –which happened to be next to ours – were a deep honey-brown and her red lips were puckered slightly from the cold.

They approached cautiously and made to move past but a drawling voice stopped them. I listened to the hateful banter for a few moments in silence before Draco said a name – or rather, a surname – that I never thought I would hear again. Granger. It wasn't exactly a common name, was it? But she did look familiar. There was a chance.

As soon as they were gone, I whirled to face Draco, asking in a hurried whisper, "Who's the girl with the brown hair?"

"That's Hermione Mudblood Granger," was the scathing reply.

I frowned at him, well aware of the hateful name, but it was her. Hermione Granger; a girl I never thought I'd see again.

It had been five years but she hadn't changed that much, which was why I recognised her.

Had she recognised me?


End file.
